He Had A Date
by endless.conflict
Summary: Some things just never change, which explains why his wife is late for what seems to be their millionth date. But he'll wait; forever, if he has to. It's an anniversary and tonight is going to be the greatest moment of his life. That's what he thinks...


**"****They're playing our song."**

The live band across the street is just now getting to the height of their Jazz piece, and Mako is admiring it from afar - a habit he's held onto for all these years to come - through the large open windows of the _Chin Chin_ restaurant.

That restaurant was a lot of things back in the day, he recalls. Before this popular swing-dig it was a burger joint - owned by a middle aged man - _Don_; decent prices, decent manners. He'd gotten shot up only about a year into his business. Refused to bow down to the Triads. Shame, it was - he'd been saving up to travel over to the Fire Nation where his lady love had resided. It was about the only thing Mako remembered about the guy, all the other details swept under the rug along with the frustration of never cracking that damn case. But, the longer a person spends in the police field, the higher the losses pile on. There are wins though, too, of course. But, still.

Mako crosses his ankles, shifting slightly in his spot against the concrete steps of someone's stoop. He sits here every late afternoon, until evening, admiring the variety of instruments blaring from inside the establishment. There was a time when he and Korra actually participated in celebration with the other folks inside, but after a while, the years start blurring together and participating becomes a chore.

Being a wallflower is a nice adjustment, Mako thinks. Doesn't know if he could say the same for his wife. She's a fighter - more so than him - if it were ever possible. The tiger-lillies in his crinkled palm waver lightly when he sets them down on the empty spot next to him, and he chortles. It was amusing how a person could get so flustered over 'romantic' things, as Korra gags the word - even now - after all these years. Some things just never change, which explains why she's late for what seems to be their _millionth_date. He smiles with a light shake of his head, sighing against the breeze. The sun in the distance is already casting warm colors against the buildings of Republic City, and further down the block, a few street lamps turn on.

Mako snugs the infamous red scarf tighter against his neck and brings his attention back across the street. _Before the burger joint,_ he thinks hard, idling into his previous thoughts - continuing where he left off, _it was an ice cream parlor._ Yeah, an ice cream parlor. Had soda, too. Lots of kids ran around there, and on lucky days, if you walked by at just the right time during the summer, there were samples. Him and Korra were regulars there, mainly because the owner never had enough samples to satiate the Avatar's hunger, and instead, invited the couple (who were much younger then) inside for free soda floats - courtesy of their service of protection. It was nice - _he_ was nice. Those little acts of kindness were what softened the hard realities about most people around here.

For some reason Mako can't remember what ever happened to the parlor, and he silently hopes to himself it had been nothing bad, either. And that the owner just found better business elsewhere and lived on to have a family - or something nice like that.

Before the ice cream parlor, that rental space used to be some rinky-dink hardware store - but the further he tries to get into specifics, the further his memory eludes him. So, he stops, and brings his focus back to the present. The previous song has already ended, and another one has kick-started the amusement of the crowd inside, once more. Mako lifts his chin a bit, tuning in his hearing at the familiar beat, and another smile, wider than the last, defies the gravity of his sunken face.

**"**_**Ahh!**_**Remember this one? Taught you how to dance to this. More like - taught us**___**both**_**how to dance to this,"**Mako laughs under his breath, glancing to the side of him. **"****But we both know you needed it most. I lost count of how many times you crushed my toes."**

It was a hilarious night, full of warm feelings that take away the pain of growing old. Love worked wonders in ways he'd never expected.

Mako then grows silent, for a while, only the sound of humming rumbling in the back of his throat. He closes his eyes and tries to picture the way Korra looked all those years ago and finds that she is always the same. Her beauty is timeless, even behind his lids and it's a struggle just to convince himself to open his eyes again at all, but he does.

_'— __. .'_

Some time must have passed since his retreat lost in memories, because the sun is a lot lower now - almost gone, now - and all the street lights are on. The neon sign of the restaurant across the street flickers on, the music dwindling to the slower kind of music; slow dance types, the kind of music for long-time lovers. This is usually the time he stands up, stretches the stiffness out of his weary bones, and heads back home.

Tonight, he doesn't, though.

It's the anniversary of Korra's death - the 30th one, in fact, and it's been 30 years too long being married, yet alone. It's a feeling Mako hasn't adjusted to yet, and it's reason why the conversations haven't stopped. It's been three decades that the former officer has walked the streets alone, making the long trip back to the house - not a home, anymore - and every single walk has convinced him that Korra is still where he needs her to be. Beside him.

That's the reason why those eyes on Aang's memorial, standing boldly across Yue Bay, have never lit up as he walked along the pier each night. A new Avatar is not here yet, because Korra has never left. She's still with her husband; still stealing all the time she can get - even though he's a retired man and doesn't have to worry about long shifts at the police station - still adjusting his scarf before they leave the house for their daily 'adventurous' stroll, still doing those endearingly annoying whistle-tunes that mimic the radio advertisements he detests and always tries to tune out, before they end up wrestling over who gets the change the station...

And then, the scene in his head shifts.

The involuntary memories of a radio-clip news report ease their way in between the love song he tries to fix his attention to. It's all mostly static, and he's thankful. Thankful because there's only so many times he can bother to hear of the 'natural causes', only so many times he can wrack his brains out over what's 'natural' and what isn't. And how his entire life can be perfect during the first half of a day, and completely gone by the end of it.

'Natural' is the way Korra's lips curl into that crooked grin when she's trying to get away with something and fails at it. 'Natural' is the way their hands fit together, the way their bodies pressed together, and their lips, and— being here— just _being here_ was natural.

That Avatar death propaganda is all mumbo-jumbo.

_Of course_ she's still here. She's still here, because… When he thinks he's alone, her unrestrained laughter echoes in his ears, and throughout the day, her heavy foot falls can be heard moving across the living room. She's here, she's always been here… _Always._

**"****I'm sorry I sat this one out,"** he finally says to himself, recalling that night before their date, and sighing as the next single begins playing into the street. It's the last one they listened to together. But he was tired from work that night, and—

—_-_

_"__Tell you what, you wear that dress I like, and I'll take you on a night out in town, like a real 'City Boy'. Meet me at Chin Chin's, nine o' clock, tonight?" _

_—__-_

This is that date.

But, sense of time means nothing, anymore—lost between dream and reality. Mako waits, he'll always be waiting; he won't go in until she gets here. The butterflies in his stomach make him a little antsy in anticipation, and any moment now, he expects to see Korra dash down the block (heels and all), swearing and babbling her tall-tale of what took so long. He doesn't care if she steps on his foot, again. _It's fine__, __it's cute, even__—__but please,_ he thinks, _just show up, alright?_

**"****Hurry up, Korra,"**he mutters, reaching over to place a hand on the flowers he brought, just for her. Hues, once gold, stare up at the night sky. A moisture stings at the corners of his eyes, but it must be allergies or something because, tonight is going to be the best day of his life; _it just has to be._

His wife is just late. She's always late, it seems—and he _knows_ that. But, this is the latest…

_How long has it been?_

**"****Hurry up,"**he whispers again, a little desperately this time. The music, faithfully continuing across the street is the only thing that answers. He can barely hear it, anymore.

**"****They're playing our song…"**


End file.
